


Ghost Boy & Demon Girl

by SlashyUnicorn



Category: Original Work
Genre: Depression, F/M, Happy Ending, Loneliness, Social Anxiety, Strangers, Suicidal Thoughts, general anxiety, self-depreciation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 02:03:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4985806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlashyUnicorn/pseuds/SlashyUnicorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are alone. You are always alone.</p><p>You have friends, of course. But they, too, are alone. And you are lonely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghost Boy & Demon Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Contains all kinds of warnings like in the tags. READ IT before you read this. You've been warned guys/girls.

-Ghost-

You are alone. You are always alone.

You have friends, of course. But they, too, are alone. And you are lonely.

You never are visible. Throughout your school, and working career. You are always the outcast. The invincible. Was bullied because of your hobby. Labeled geeks and shoved and pushed. 

So you fought back and now you are bigger than the bullies. Stronger. Carved tattoos as part of your shield. And yet you are cast out by your fellow geeks. Labeled too different now. They are wrong, you want to reach out. You are still who you were before. They won't listen.

You stayed in the corner, feeling like in between. Trapped. Like ghost.

\----------------------------------------------

-Demon-

You are alone. You are always alone.

You are always able to make new acquaintances quick. Quicker than some people you know. That’s what you notice since early on. You make small conversation, figure out their name. Chat them a few moments and then…nothing.

You notice something is wrong when nothing came out of it. Little by little, every single ‘friends’ that you made beginning to distance themselves. They glide even closer to their old friends or to their new friends and you are left alone, ignored in the corner. You didn’t know what went wrong. Or how it went wrong. Or maybe, what is wrong is yourself.

You always have a small voice, ever since that one time in your class in elementary school when the teacher scold your big booming voice, and now you always automatically hold it back, continuously until it’s no longer able to voice out louder. 

So your friends chats between themselves, your comments and remarks ignored or forgotten or not heard, and they fade away in the distance.

And so you fade along with them. Into nothingness.

You start to notice tears falling down your face when you are alone. You are powerless to stop it. They fall down like rain. Dripping from your chin and unto your pillow or your shirt.

You often stares into nothing. Wondering what could be or what should be. Wondering if you should kill your pathetic self but you never be able to make yourself do it because you are afraid. Oh so afraid of the sight of your own blood or gaping wounds on your wrist or your split head.

You also want to be alone. Want to get rid of everybody who ignored and hurt you so you could finally be alone without the weight of failure. Something is wrong with you but you cannot figure out what. Or why.

Is this depression? You wonder. Or maybe you are sick, mentally.

You feel weak and helpless and angry.

You think you know what is wrong.

You are bad. You are selfish. You have no empathy. You are broken.

And you know it.

That is why you feel trapped between helplessness and anger but also acceptance. Because you can’t fault them for leaving you, as you rarely laugh at their jokes (you think it’s not funny. At all. But you try anyway. And fail) or you almost never give them gifts at their birthday (the responsibility of gifts and giving back and whether they like it or not and what you should get for them weights down on you and make you depressed) or go to places with them (their hang out place usually far and expensive and you do not have enough money) or they get pissed at you because what you said, gibberish about your hobby of pop culture baffled them.

But even among the pop culturist you are mostly ignored. As your social skill is as good as a skeleton. None. You mostly hate or unable to generate small talk.

You try to change a couple of times along the way, but you find that people…they don’t care. They don’t care at all. They don’t give a flying fuck about what you think. What you feel. How helpless and distressed you are. All they care about are themselves.

So you know you are evil, and people just approach you when there is something that they want, and yet you crave that closeness and happiness, even if you know you don’t deserve it. Like a demon. Or fallen angel. Lucifer.

\----------------------------------------------

-Ghost-

Today, you meet a girl. A girl in a black and red outfit and glasses’ frame, as she walks alone down the street, her black bag slung over her shoulder. She stares into nothing, looking almost sad as she walks with brisk pace and you wonder.

What was she thinking about.

You are filled with the need to speak out and ask. But you don’t.

Because you are a coward.

\----------------------------------------------

-Demon-

Today, you meet a boy. A boy with the green plaid shirt and tattoos of what looks like from your favorite movies and series. You long for a conversation with this boy.

But you don’t do anything. Too afraid.

You could feel his judgmental stare as you walk down the street. Paranoia settling as you thinks about scenario. One of them involves getting murdered by him.

You walk faster.

\----------------------------------------------

-Ghost-

Today, you meet that girl again, in blue and black outfit this time. You wonder why she always wears black. Maybe it is her favorite. Maybe she is mourning about something. Someone.

You wonder what you could do to cheer her up. But you don’t know how.

You are always an awkward kid in a conversation. Not knowing what to say. What to do. Girls shun you for your looks and interest and awkwardness. Boys never stays for a long time.

Maybe…maybe you could mimic how men usually greet girls on the street.

So you catcalled her, and it sounds wavered and awkward but she doesn’t notice as she narrows her eyes at you and beginning to seem to resolve herself and acts as if you are a ghost whispered things in her ears. She pretends she doesn’t see you but then eventually caves and gives you the fingers.

She calls you ghost boy as she said farewell in the nastiest way you’ve ever heard and you call her demon girl like she was possessed and crazy.

It is weird but it fits at the same time. You like her already.

\----------------------------------------------

-Demon-

Today, you meet the boy again, this time with the blue plaids, matching your blue shirt and black jeans. You get angry at the rude remarks, of course. But you feel like he isn’t used to that. Like he actually means good. But you ignore it and call him ghost boy. 

He calls you demon girl. Good.

\----------------------------------------------

-Both-

You both meet every day on that same road. Sometimes you both says nothing sometimes you both did. You, ghost boy, stops the catcall you made. It was rude and insulting and you regret it but never brave enough to say it. You, demon girl, tries to be nicer. Made up sympathy, sometimes, but better than no sympathy at all.

What usually happens is that you both fought with your tongue and wit and everything you have.

You both start to feel alive again. Sharp words filling in the gap of loneliness. 

What is it that people said? A kiss with a fist is better than none.

It isn’t quite a fist nor anything physical. But it makes it all the better. You hurt each other, but not at the same time.

You, ghost boy, revel in the way her eyes alight and alive.

You, demon girl, revel in the way he starts to smile genuinely and confidently.

You both wait at the same road for hours, each time the other doesn’t show up.

Waiting.

Yearning.

Picking on why and how and scabbing the old wounds of self-doubts, It is gone the next day though, when the other shows up.

\----------------------------------------------

-Both-

Every couple of days, each of you braved yourself in asking the other to go somewhere.

You don’t really know this person, you think. They could be anyone.

But you marched on, and they say yes.

\----------------------------------------------

-Ghost-

You go to restaurant, convention of geeks and bookstore and game store and you might not look as if you are fully enjoying this on the outside but you are beaming on the inside.

She looks bored. She always looks bored or sad or angry (that is just how her face works, you realize) but you can also see how happy she actually is by the light on her eyes and the slight upturn of her lips and the lack of frown.

You pat yourself in the back for this success.

\----------------------------------------------

-Demon-

You don’t even know his name or whether or not he actually enjoys this weird sort of crazy company of yours and your hand twitch with anxiety.

You ask for his name, as you willing to give up your virtual name, for you feel like that name represent you more than your real name that burdened you with heavy responsibility and reality and expectation and society. You love that name, the name that was given to you by your parents since before the birth, but you despise it all the same.

Relief wash over you when you realize this man in front of you just spilled out the same fucking thing you just said.

You just hope this thing will last longer than any of your friendship.

\----------------------------------------------

-Ghost-

You don’t know why you come here. You feel depression is trying to swallow you whole. Sudden and fast. You come to this place where she is always at every Friday evening. You find her and you hug her. She stiffened but you continue to hug her, tears falling down your face.

You cry, not-so-silently and she pats you awkwardly on the back and you realize she isn’t used to this sort of thing. Personal and vulnerability. But you know she’s not judging you. At all.

Instead she glares and give the finger to the onlooker and judging eyes, who whisper shamelessly behind your back.

And you feel…happy. At being cared for. At someone actually gives a shit about you

Laugh torn suddenly from your chest. Bursting out without your permission. 

She smiled. The first genuinely wide smile you get from her and it is beautiful. 

You keep the memory close to your heart so you can cherish it forever.

\----------------------------------------------

-Demon-

This time you are the one who feel the need to cry. You haven’t feel this for a long time but you get this sort of thing from time to time. Inadequacy starting to weight down on you. Failed expectation crushing itself above you and you hug yourself in the corner. Needing someone. Anyone. Ghost boy.

But you cannot. Would not.

Cause you always feels that crying in front of people is a sign of weakness and you don’t want him to know, especially him, on how weak you are for the fear of driving him away.

So you hide yourself underneath the covers until your eyes are red and swollen, missing your usual meet up with him. He...probably won't care anyway. Or will he?

The next day you meet him, your eyes still as bad as yesterday, and you ducked your head in futile attempts to hide it. Not even your glasses’ frame could hide how swollen your eyes are.

He reach out hesitantly to hug you, while you just clench your fist. He hug you and you cried silently on his shoulder, gritting your teeth to stave any sound, wetting his T-shirt in the process.

You are grateful when he doesn’t say anything, instead taking you out to the park and buy an ice cream for you. You both sit quietly on the bench. With you licking your bubblegum flavored ice cream in one hand, and your other hand held in his right hand. His left arm circling around your shoulder, rubbing it lightly, the notion soothing. 

You should feel uncomfortable, he was after all a stranger (or is he? You felt more comfortable with him than some of your best friend, even) but you revel in this. He cares, genuinely cares and you feel…happy.

\----------------------------------------------

-Ghost-

You have been “together” for a few years now.

The fight, the tears, and the moments you both had. All worth it. You wondered what would’ve happen that day if you decided against reaching out to her.

Butterfly effect. 

One day, you braved yourself to ask her out. Made it official. 

What she does instead, is frown. 

You thought—you don’t know what you thought.

But not this. She is happier in your mind. Maybe you are disillusioned.

She look away, for a moment. 

She asks if you are sure that you want her (of course you want her. You love her)

She thinks that you could do better (of course not she is the one that you want)

She nods, once, and says that she’ll think about it (she’s going to say no and you know it)

The next day, you are right, she does say no. But then she gave you this ring. One for you and one for her. She says that she was afraid of labels because labels could be taken off. But she agrees to be yours if you agrees to be hers and you and her won’t have any name for what they have but you both will have each other.

You kissed her in overwhelming happiness. Only on the cheek though, as you not want to be intrusive of her personal space. You know how she love her personal space. She looks surprised and you wring your hand in nervousness. But then she moves forward, shyly, and kiss you back on your cheek.

\----------------------------------------------

-Demon-

Twenty years later, you’re both still together, defying expectation that love needs no labels nor sex. When you came out to him as an asexual, palm tightly fisted underneath the table, nervous, especially after you rejected him over and over again his offer to come over to his house and move in together, as you are afraid it’ll leads to sex and he’ll know, he assures you that it is completely fine, as he is also an asexual and you couldn’t be more happy.

You peppered him with kisses that day and he looks at you with so much love in his eyes, and you are sure you’re looking at him the same.

You say thank you, then, for him to exist in this world as a wonderful being. For him being him. For loving you.

\----------------------------------------------

-Both-

Ghost boy and demon girl, finally find where they belong, without loneliness.

**Author's Note:**

> All I can say about this, is that the fic is kind of personal. Issues that I, and I know a lot of people out there try to deal everyday. This is real and not 'just a phase'. So sorry if anyone out there who read it, who also have general and social anxiety got offended by this fic. I just need to let the steam out, I suppose. Sorry.
> 
> Also. Please, never mock people with social and general anxiety. Or tell them to get over it. It'll never work for them. Be compassionate, be patient. We appreciate it.


End file.
